Some Christmas/The Cue.

A description of what I've been feeling for a very long time. Nothing to do with Romanticism really.Just feels like it though. Maybe an anguish not analysed ,not helped,not conquered.

As I wait for your call,

It’s  10 34 in the early evening.

As I wait ,my fingers are numb,

As I wait to be your friend.

For you be mine.

With Nirvana crooning in my dreams,

And  Johnny Cash waiting.

Some would say I’m depressed.

I say I’m narcissistic.

And waiting to be needed.

That’s my need.To be needed.

Why don’t I get what I need?

I’m selfish  and more selfish to wait

For you to want me .

Everyday.All day.One call.

One text.One dream.One croon.

One link.One voice.One dream

Everyday,Darling.

That’s all I’m waiting for.

I write putting away my fears.

And frozen fingers.

Forgotten cup of chocolate.

Some hot chocolate.A cuddling would be good baby.

A hug,a kiss,a call and some Steven Wilson

My darling,I think I’m in love with you.

As a friend or a lover.

I don’t know.

You tell me.

Tell me. So I can finally move on.

With my selfish greed and need to someone else.

Who’s like me.All selfish and needy.

I’m broken for reasons I don’t know.

Help me.

Author's Note

My first proper attempt really.First draft.Really looking forward to honest reviews and criticism.
Please do ignore grammar,as I was really shaky when I wrote this.

Reviews

[Grant P.]

The poem gives the feeling that you need attention, but you feel selfish wanting the attention. There's a couple points where you repeat, but I don't know of that what you wanted for the flow of the poem. I hope things get better for ya. Nice write.